“Oh, my dear.” Sarah reached out a thin, elegantly long hand to clasp Becca’s. “That big nincompoop did something wrong, didn’t he?”
She wanted to laugh, lightheaded with relief
that Sarah wasn’t blaming her. If she had to lose anybody when this
relationship with Conrad went south, she didn’t want that person to be Sarah.
“Well, he called me Becks, for one thing. And
Simone was hanging on him, and they were getting ready for a picnic supper at
Windows.” She shrugged. No way was she going to admit that Conrad played the
“Oh, hello, stranger, what do you want?” card on her. So juvenile.
“I honestly don’t know what’s happened with that boy. He’s avoiding everybody, irritating clients, changing everything around at the office.” Sarah held out her bent arm for Becca to loop with hers, and they turned to head across the parking lot to the back door of the church. “Between those mules I call sons and that brother appearing out of the blue …” She sighed and patted Becca’s hand. “It’s like he’s had a nervous breakdown. But of course, big, strong men don’t admit they’ve got nerves, so he has to push away everybody who cares about him.”
“And then some,” Rufus said, catching up with them and passing them with a few pushes on his wheels. “Guy’s ticked every time I try to fix the newest thing he messed up with the office computers.” He shook his head, then sped up, zipping to the left to the wheelchair ramp into Cadburn Bible Chapel.
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